Odd Numbers. Ford Sewell

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СКАЧАТЬ says I, “the studio’s still here on 42d-st., and if your eyesight ain’t failed you – ”

      “Oh, chop it, can’t you, Shorty?” says he. “This is really important. Come right up, can’t you!”

      “That depends,” says I. “Any partic’lar place?”

      “Of course,” says he. “Here at the club. I’m to meet Chick Sommers here in half an hour. We’ll have luncheon together and – ”

      “I’m on,” says I. “I don’t know Chick; but I’m a mixer, and I’ll stand for anything in the food line but cold egg. Scratch the chilled hen fruit and I’m with you.”

      Know about Duke, don’t you? It ain’t much to tell. He’s just one of these big, handsome, overfed chappies that help the mounted traffic cops to make Fifth-ave. look different from other Main-sts. He don’t do any special good, or any partic’lar harm. Duke’s got just enough sense, though, to have spasms of thinkin’ he wants to do something useful now and then, and all I can dope out of this emergency call of his is that this is a new thought.

      That’s the answer, too. He begins tellin’ me about it while the head waiter’s leadin’ us over to a corner table. Oh, yes, he’s going in for business in dead earnest now, y’know, – suite of offices, his name on the letterheads, and all that sort of thing, bah Jove!

      All of which means that Mr. Chick Sommers, who was a star quarterback in ’05, when Duke was makin’ his college bluff on the Gold Coast, has rung him into a South Jersey land boomin’ scheme. A few others, friends of Chick’s, are in it. They’re all rippin’ good fellows, too, and awfully clever at planning out things. Chick himself, of course, is a corker. It was him that insisted on Duke’s bein’ treasurer.

      “And really,” says Duke, “about all I have to do is drop around once or twice a week and sign a few checks.”

      “I see,” says I. “They let you supply the funds, eh?”

      “Why, yes,” says Duke. “I’m the only one who can, y’know. But they depend a great deal on my judgment, too. For instance, take this new deal that’s on; it has all been left to me. There are one hundred and eighteen acres, and we don’t buy a foot unless I say so. That’s where you come in, Shorty.”

      “Oh, do I?” says I.

      “You see,” Duke goes on, “I’m supposed to inspect it and make a decision before the option expires, which will be day after to-morrow. The fact is, I’ve been putting off going down there, and now I find I’ve a winter house party on, up in Lenox, and – Well, you see the box I’m in.”

      “Sure!” says I. “You want me to sub for you at Lenox?”

      “Deuce take it, no!” says Duke. “I want you to go down and look at that land for me.”

      “Huh!” says I. “What I know about real estate wouldn’t – ”

      “Oh, that’s all right,” says Duke. “It’s only a matter of form. The boys say they want it, and I’m going to buy it for them anyway; but, just to have it all straight and businesslike, either I ought to see the land myself, or have it inspected by my personal representative. Understand?”

      “Duke,” says I, “you’re a reg’lar real estate Napoleon. I wouldn’t have believed it was in you.”

      “I know,” says he. “I’m really surprised at myself.”

      Next he explains how he happened to think of sendin’ me, and casually he wants to know if a couple of hundred and expenses will be about right for spoilin’ two days of my valuable time. How could I tell how much it would lose me? But I said I’d run the chances.

      Then Chick shows up, and they begin to talk over the details of this new bungalow boom town that’s to be located on the Jersey side.

      “I tell you,” says Chick, “it’ll be a winner from the start. Why, there’s every advantage anyone could wish for, – ocean breezes mingled with pine scented zephyrs, magnificent views, and a railroad running right through the property! The nearest station now is Clam Creek; but we’ll have one of our own, with a new name. Clam Creek! Ugh! How does Pinemere strike you?”

      “Perfectly ripping, by Jove!” says Duke, so excited over it that he lights the cork end of his cigarette. “Shorty, you must go right down there for me. Can’t you start as soon as you’ve had your coffee?”

      Oh, but it was thrillin’, listenin’ to them two amateur real estaters layin’ plans that was to make a seashore wilderness blossom with surveyors’ stakes and fresh painted signs like Belvidere-ave., Ozone Boulevard, and so on.

      It struck me, though, that they was discussin’ their scheme kind of free and public. I spots one white haired, dignified old boy, doing the solitaire feed at the table back of Duke, who seems more or less int’rested. And I notices that every time Clam Creek is mentioned he pricks up his ears. Sure enough, too, just as we’re finishing, he steps over and taps Duke on the shoulder.

      “Why, howdy do, Mr. Cathaway?” says Duke. “Charmed to see you, by Jove!”

      And it turns out he’s DeLancey Cathaway, the big noise in the philanthropy game, him that gets up societies for suppressin’ the poor and has his name on hospitals and iron drinkin’ fountains. After he’s been introduced all around he admits that he’s caught one or two remarks, and says he wants to congratulate Duke on givin’ up his idle ways and breakin’ into an active career.

      Oh, he’s a smooth old party, Mr. Cathaway is! He don’t let on to be more’n moderately int’rested, and the next thing I know he’s sidled away from Duke and is walkin’ out alongside of me.

      “Going down town?” says he. “Then perhaps you will allow me to give you a lift?” and he motions to his town car waiting at the curb.

      “Gee!” thinks I. “I’m makin’ a hit with the nobility, me and my winnin’ ways!”

      That don’t exactly state the case, though; for as soon as we’re alone DeLancey comes right to cases.

      “I understand, Mr. McCabe,” says he, “that you are to visit Clam Creek.”

      “Yep,” says I. “Sounds enticin’, don’t it?”

      “Doubtless you will spend a day or so there?” he goes on.

      “Over night, anyway,” says I.

      “Hum!” says he. “Then you will hardly fail to meet my brother. He is living at Clam Creek.”

      “What!” says I. “Not Broadway Bob?”

      “Yes,” says he, “Robert and his wife have been there for nearly two years. At least, that is where I have been sending his allowance.”

      “Mrs. Bob too!” says I. “Why – why, say, you don’t mean the one that – ”

      “The same,” he cuts in. “I know they’re supposed to be abroad; but they’re not, they are at Clam Creek.”

      Maybe you’ve heard about the Bob Cathaways, and maybe you ain’t. There’s so many new near-plutes nowadays that the old families ain’t getting the advertisin’ they’ve been СКАЧАТЬ